


Carrying Your Pain With Me

by AuroraKant



Series: Whumptober2020 [20]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (In a Father-Son Way), Bruce Wayne is Batman, But Bruce Wayne Is Still His Dad, Chronic Pain, Declarations Of Love, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Moderate Description of Illness, Open Ending, So... Dick Does Generally Not Vibe With Bruce, This Takes Place During Dick's Early Years As Nightwing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: Dick wasn’t familiar with the streets of Tokyo, the Justice League investigation ending here after Batman poured months of work into finding the fabled Phantom Killer. Batman had originally been paired with Hawk Woman for this assignment, but she had fallen sick, and the next name on the rooster list had been Dick’s.It was rather obvious that absolutely nobody had been happy about this development.Or: Dick has a chronic pain flare up while on a mission with Batman, but he decides against telling Bruce - Nightwing needs this chance to prove himself to his former guardian after all.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948651
Comments: 32
Kudos: 221
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Carrying Your Pain With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and Welcome to Another Day of Whumptober!!!  
> I sure hope you know that I have now officially posted more than 100.000 words for this challenge this year!!!
> 
> Comments, Kudos, and Bookmarks make me VERY, VERY HAPPY!!! <3<3<3

“Are you okay?“

“Of course, I am!“

Dick was sick of this. He was sick of Bruce’s constant doubt, he was sick of the constant questions and the second-guessing.

Nightwing had been his for two years now, a time in which Dick had apprehended many villains and bad guys Batman would have struggled with. Nightwing had proven himself. He was a great hero and a great asset to the Justice League Emergency rooster, and he was a wonderful protector for Blüdhaven.

And what had Bruce done in all that time? He had found another helpless boy and dressed him in Dick’s colors. His parent’s colors.

It didn’t matter that his joints hurt as he crouched low behind Batman, both their eyes glued to the enemy they had been tracking for literal ages now. It didn’t matter – because it couldn’t.

Chronic pain was something every human superhero dealt with as far as Dick was aware, and he was just suffering through another flare up.

Bruce sure as hell had been sick with pain a few times when Dick had been younger, his guardian restlessly sleeping and tossing around, as his body complained about the way it was being used. It hadn’t been injuries that were keeping him down, at least not visible ones – but remains of the things that had healed wrong over the years.

And in a way, Dick had been doing this for longer.

There wasn’t a time Dick had not been a trained acrobat pushing his body to his limits. He knew the price his family had been willing to pay for that – stunted grow, early arthritis, worn down joints – and when he became Robin, he chose to suffer the exact same consequences – only double, and probably earlier.

So, yeah, Dick was twenty… and he hadn’t been a stranger to chronic pain for years by now.

There were bad days and good days – and he would complete the mission even if that meant powering through a bad day. Especially if that meant showing Batman just what Nightwing was made out off.

“You seem a bit off-balance” Bruce continued, and Dick had to swallow down an exasperated groan.

 _Only Bruce._ Only Bruce would manage to make something this simple sound like the scolding of a disappointed boy scouts group leader. Once upon a time, when Dick had still been Robin, when they had still been father and son, Bruce would have hidden another meaning underneath his words. Dick would have been able to find a “I am worrying” somewhere in Bruce’s tone – but no matter how much he searched for it now, he couldn’t find it.

“Maybe I am off-balance because you keep interfering with my information gathering?”

It was easier to spit a sharp retort back, than to admit that he felt like shit. Not that he would ever tell Bruce that.

But his body was on fire. It had to be one of his worst flares in a while, and Dick was just honestly not vibing. Each and every one of his joints pulsed with inhuman heat, and his muscles – especially those on his left calf – felt tight and strung taunt.

He needed an ice bath, some strong pain killers, and a fortnight of sleep… but he would get neither. And he wouldn’t falter either!

Batman was just waiting for Nightwing to misstep, so he could tell the Justice League that it had been a mistake to accept Nightwing as a hero. So, Bruce could try to take even this away from him – and Dick wouldn’t let him. Dick would never let anyone take the legacy he had created for himself away, ever again.

Nightwing only belonged to him – and to Uncle Clark.

The goons on the other side of the street chose that moment to move, and Dick felt relief – the longer he was forced to endure this uncomfortable position, the more obvious the strain on his body became. Moving would do him some good.

Dick wasn’t familiar with the streets of Tokyo, the Justice League investigation ending here after Batman poured months of work into finding the fabled Phantom Killer. Batman had originally been paired with Hawk Woman for this assignment, but she had fallen sick, and the next name on the rooster list had been Dick’s.

It was rather obvious that absolutely nobody had been happy about this development.

But Dick had tried. Maybe this could be the chance he needed? This could be his opportunity to prove himself as Nightwing? Maybe Bruce would stop looking so disappointed then. Maybe Dick would stop longing for his dad during the empty and dark nights he spent alone in Blüdhaven should that happen.

But that was just fantasy now, was it?

Dick had already been feeling the beginnings of aches and pain, when he stepped onto the plane and it hadn’t gotten any better since. He had already begun to break, before he ever got a chance to show Batman up.

And now it was apparently so obvious, that even Captain Oblivious realized that something was not alright with Dick.

But Fuck it! Dick would show him!

His grapple connected with the wall opposite him, and Dick used his entire body to elegantly swing over the space between the buildings. His shoulders complained, but Dick wouldn’t let that stop him. Instead, he let himself fall further, twisting his body in a pirouette Bruce had called unnecessary and useless when he was Robin.

Dick wasn’t Robin anymore, now, was he?

He could almost hear Bruce roll his eyes behind him, and yet Dick continued, hunting the goons of the criminal they were searching for through neon lit streets, bathed in darkness. 

For a moment the pain fell away.

For a moment everything was perfect.

It almost felt like home, Batman and Robin hunting criminals together, their shadows dancing over the buildings surrounding them, their presence creating hope.

Tokyo was an interesting city, one Dick thought he would enjoy should he ever get a chance to explore it on his own terms. The stores they passed looked fun, and the buildings were of interesting architecture – it was exhilarating to be Nightwing somewhere else, to leave his cosmos behind, and find out that he could exist somewhere else as well.

But nothing good could ever stay forever.

The goons vanished into a nondescript office building, and Dick was once again forced to perch on top of an opposing building. He could barely suppress the wince, as his knees protested the motion vehemently. The pain was almost unbearable, a searing, tearing sensation that threatened to sweep Dick away.

But he stood strong.

If Batman noticed the tension in Dick’s shoulders, or the shaking he could do nothing about, the man was intelligent enough not to say anything. What was more likely, however, was now that the serious part of the investigation had started, Batman was not interested in Nightwing's wellbeing beyond what was needed for the mission.

It had always been that way back when they still trusted each other.

If the mission began, Batman stopped asking Robin how he was feeling – because Batman trusted Robin to tell him if something was wrong. No need to ask, if you could count on your partner to inform you of anything being wrong.

Well… Nightwing didn’t feel overly inclined to trust Batman.

“The goons are moving in the building. I can count fourteen men and women… Phantom Killer has gathered quite the crowd around him, hasn’t he?”

Nightwing could be all business as well, if he wanted to.

Batman only grunted an answer, and Dick hated the fact that he understood what Bruce was trying to say. He could still read Bruce’s micro-expressions and facial features better than he could sometimes read his own… and he knew what Bruce wanted him to do.

No way.

“No way! I will not stay back, you old fart! This is a two-man mission and that means, two men enter and complete the mission – you are the one who wrote the protocols!”

“Night-“

“No. I will not let you boss me around as if I am still your fucking sidekick! According to League rules, we are equal partners on this mission, and you are unable to outrank me on things like this!”

That was not completely true – Batman still had privileges as a senior member, Nightwing as an Emergency Contractor could never hope for – but it was true enough. Batman was not Nightwing’s superior.

Silence.

And then a silent “okay.” from Bruce. It shouldn’t feel as freeing as it did, but Nightwing could feel the relief wash through him.

With his body aching as it did, he didn’t really have the extra energy to fight with Batman – but he had sworn himself that he would uphold his pride and priorities while he was on this mission. And he did – giving Bruce trouble and standing up for himself was something that Dick was actually quite good at.

“Nightwing, take the south entrance. I will take the front. Remember: The Phantom Killer is probably going to be in there, but we cannot be 100% sure. I want you to engage only – and I mean only – if you have proof of the man’s presence.”

“Understood.”

Dick wasn’t dumb. He knew which battles to fight and which battles to lose – asking Bruce to let him continue on this mission was the most he was going to get.

He jumped down from the rooftop, his knees sighing in relief.

It was weird – Dick felt warm, and stifled, and cold at the same time. It didn’t feel like his usual flare ups, but then again… Dick usually tried to sleep through them. Pushing and working while his body demanded rest was going to cause some problems in the long run, but he would have to deal with them once this was over.

Once he was back in Blüdhaven and far away from the confusing presence of his former partner.

It was easy to enter the building from the south, the entrance the least protected one. Dick only had to knock-out one guard, silently dropping the woman onto the floor, her arms and legs tied, before he could sneak through the door.

The hallway behind the entrance was dark, the tiled floor squeaky clean, and the walls a nondescript white. A new building, his brain supplied, no firm or cooperation claiming the space in the middle of Tokyo yet. Investment sharks had probably haggled the price so much this precious piece of land was going to go unused for a long time…

Well, not really unused.

Phantom Killer used it as his base after all, operation worldwide while hidden in a normal white office building in the middle of the chaos of a mega city.

It was harder to go undetected from here on out, Dick hiding behind pillars and doorways, whenever he heard someone come, the AC shafts way too narrow for him to crawl through. He had checked.

And yet he didn’t meet anybody while he crept down the hallways deeper into the building. Every noise that made it to his ears, was distant, and he couldn’t even yet hear the commotion that usually accompanied one of Bruce’s dramatic entrances.

Dick wasn’t going to lie – it was a bit spooky.

Soon he reached the staircase, checking both directions before deciding on a rather rash move.

Creeping up the stairs would do him no good, one mistake and he would be spotted. Or… not even a mistake. Dick could do nothing wrong and as soon as someone opened a door Dick would have nowhere to hide. He would be forced to engage while most likely being stuck on a lower level than his opponent.

But if he ran… If he ran, he would potentially make more noise, but the time frame for his discovery would be much smaller, and his body would already be in motion should someone open the door and stumble upon him.

Maybe he could even grapple – but no, it would be too fast to check on which floor he had to enter the main part of the building again.

Running it was.

His knees almost buckled underneath him as he took his first leap. Sharp, intense pain raced through his entire body, piercing his heart and stealing his breath in the process. Dick almost screamed.

He didn’t. His chest heaved, his eyes were tearing up, but he didn’t scream. It was a close call. Too close.

The intelligent thing to do would be to inform Bruce of this development. The brave thing to do, would be to stand up for himself and tell Bruce that he had been lying, that he was feeling like shit, that chronic pain was ruining his life… but apparently, Dick Grayson was a coward.

Just the thought of Bruce looking at him with the pitying disappointment in his eyes made Dick want to throw up.

Batman didn’t trust him anyways, didn’t regard Dick as his own person, and whatever Dick was going to do next, would only endorse that sentiment.

Whatever respect Nightwing had managed to gain over the last two years, would be gone the moment Bruce found out in just how much pain Dick really was.

And… Dick wasn’t strong enough for that. He couldn’t… he couldn’t disappoint Bruce again.

So, instead of activating his comm unit and telling Bruce that he needed an extraction, Dick took a deep breath, counting to one-hundred in prime numbers in his head, before he straightened up, where his body had forced him to cower.

It hurt.

It hurt almost immeasurably.

But Nightwing had endured worse, that survived pain more horrid than even death… he would survive this too.

Dick started to run up the stairs, heat pulsing through his body at every step, pain echoing through his heart and head.

The correct door was right in front of him, and he had managed to reach it without complications – if you discounted the pain – but he was breathing hard, his heart hammering away in his chest. Dick was deteriorating fast and he had no idea why.

This really didn’t feel like his standard flare up.

But that didn’t matter, what was important right now was the mission and Dick would see it to an end. He would finish the mission and then--- and then he would take care of whatever was wrong with his body.

He eased the door open, his hands cautious and silent. The loudest noise he could discern through his labored breathing was the sound of a conversation happening in the far end of the hallway. It was in Japanese, so Dick barely understood a word, but it didn’t sound as if anyone was standing directly behind the exit leading from the stairs onto the main floor.

It was almost too easy to slip through the door, and vanish in one of the empty office rooms, his steps silent. The world didn’t completely stop swaying even as Dick stopped to wait for his next opportunity to move.

He was efficient as he checked the exits and the entrances, creeping closer to the main area one office at a time. He and Bruce had spotted the goons in there earlier. In his mind he concentrated on continuing to count, forcing his body to focus on something besides the deep, deep ache that radiated up his leg, growing homey in every joint Dick sported.

Reaching the last room – the most important room – was complicated, the voices Dick had heard earlier, now discernable as two guards standing directly in front of the door.

Batman had said not to engage – not unless Dick was absolutely sure that their target was in the building – but he wanted this mission to be over. He wanted to fall headfirst into his memory foam mattress and sleep for half an eternity – or until his alarm blared and told him it was time to get up again and face the world. Whatever happened first.

And anyway… how was Dick supposed to enter the room if he couldn’t move past the guards? The vents were too small, and the room had no windows leading into the building. The door was literally the only entrance.

For once it was Bruce who took care of that choice for him.

Dick got a short “Engage!” from Bruce over the comms, before he heard a loud crash, surprised yelling and the sound of gunfire. He could do little more than watch as the two guards snapped into attention, turning around and entering the room.

They even left the doors open for Dick.

From what Dick could see from his position a doorway away, the room had already fallen victim to the chaos Batman brought. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then Nightwing stepped out of his hiding place and into the mayhem.

The fight was a mess, Batman and Nightwing largely outnumbered. It might have been okay, if it weren’t for two facts: One, Phantom Killer was definitely there and he was a powerful meta who could control, well, phantoms of himself, and Two, Nightwing was most definitely not at his best.

The goons in Phantom Killer’s employ were well-trained, and Dick was ashamed to admit that he was struggling as he fought against three of them at the same time.

His elbow to the head of the female goon only dazed her for a moment, and his spinning kick into the face of the man to his right, probably hurt him more than the criminal.

And yet… Dick was doing alright. It was demanding, he could feel the sweat collecting on his forehead and in the back of his suit, but he was still standing tall while he left a trail of unconscious goons behind.

His breath was coming in short bursts when two things happened at once.

Dick watched as a Phantom bled into existence behind Bruce, and he was screaming “Batman! Watch out!” before he could think about it. Bruce was… Bruce was too slow, maybe Dick’s warning exactly the thing that had distracted him, but Dick was forced to see his mentor fall as the Phantom got a drop on him.

His own demise was far less exciting.

He had been distracted, his mind and eyes on the happenings on the other side of the room. And normally that would have been okay for an attack like that, the goon simply grabbing Dick by the leg from his position on the floor.

But the grabby hands of a man, Dick should have knocked out better, touched his calf and---

Blinding white light flooded his vison. His stomach lurched, pain the most prominent thing on his mind and then…

And then…

And then he fell, darkness claiming him before he could reach the floor.

“Wake up, chum…. Come on… wake up.”

It was unbelievably hard to open his eyes, the face swimming in and out of focus over him hazy. Dick wasn’t exactly sure what he should do with it, his brain unable to process the information presented to him.

He was on fire.

And… Bruce was here?

“Hn?”

“There we go…”

His dad’s hand was cool against his forehead, and Dick closed his eyes in bliss. The cold was a blessing, a relief, and Dick was tempted to just continue sleeping, the fire almost bearable with something to smother its flames so close by.

“No. Don’t sleep. Nightwing! I said don’t sleep! This is an order!”

Dick’s eyes snapped open once more.

Bruce was a bit clearer this time, Dick’s gaze more focused as he let his eyes wander away from the blatant worry in Bruce’s face – and the Cowl – towards the dark room they were in. More like a dark closet, the space being infuriatingly small from what Dick could gather.

“What happ’n?”

“You have a fever and didn’t tell me.”

“No fever… chron’c pain…”

But now that Bruce had said it, Dick could feel the fever burning him from the inside as well. He had just thought… well, it had felt a lot like literal fire tearing him apart.

And yet he knew he was right as well. He didn’t have a fever when he stepped onto the plane, and he wasn’t even sure if he had one when he entered the building.

But he sure as hell had one now, his thoughts hidden behind a cloud of confusion, his head thrumming with a headache.

“Nightwing” – and it sounded as if Bruce was trying to say his name – “you are burning up. I need to know what is going on.”

“Chron’c pain flare up.”

Dick had no idea what else it was supposed to be, his eyelids heavy, and his joints aching in tact with every breath he took. Bruce’s hands were careful as he let them wander down Dick’s body, probably checking him for any injury. But Dick hadn’t hidden anything from his father, at least not on purpose.

Whimpers escaped him as Bruce touched his wrists and knees, the joins swollen and tender. But that wasn’t what was keeping Dick in the clutches of the fever, was it?

“Chum, chronic pain does many things, and I am sure your joints would be grateful if you took better care of them, but a fever like this? This is something else.”

They both could feel the exact moment Bruce found the source of Dick’s agony, his gentle fingers brushing over the tender flesh of Dick’s calf where the goon had grabbed him.

They knew that was it because Dick started to scream.

For a short moment – or an eternity – his entire world was painted red, pain clawing at his soul, as agony corroded his will… when he blinked his eyes open again, Bruce had carefully managed to peel the Nightwing suit back.

Dick didn’t have to be able to see his leg, to be able to smell it, the putrid stank of decay filling the tiny space they were in.

“Fuck” Batman’s low growl made the word sound even darker than it was. But, yes, fuck was a rather good assessment of their situation. Of Dick’s chances.

A week ago, Dick had gotten a cut during patrol, nothing major, just something shallow that needed a couple of stitches. Dick had been sure, that he’d cleaned the wound well enough, bandaging it up and never spending another thought towards the slight sting in his lower leg.

Now he was paying the price.

No, worse, now both of them were paying the price.

“I… I forgot… I hadn’t… I didn’t know it was infected… Honestly, B…”

Dick felt like crying, but he didn’t indulge himself like that. Crying would only distract Bruce from the important parts… like What came next? Or How would they escape?

“It’s…”

Bruce started to speak only to fall silent again. The man was speechless, but not in the way he usually was. Normally, Bruce just… couldn’t communicate, be it because he didn’t want to, or because he simply had no idea how. But Dick had heard something else in his voice just now… something that sounded a lot more like a lump in Bruce’s throat, words that denied being spoken no matter how much Bruce wanted to say them.

It scared Dick, unbelievably so.

“It’s… Di- Nightwing, the infection has spread. It is bad. Very bad.”

“Am I going to die?”

Dick didn’t want to die, especially not because of sepsis. He knew how death by infection worked, he had read the reports, he had learned the medical facts… his fever would get worse as the bacteria spread through his bloodstream. And then slowly, but not slowly enough to save him, his organs would fail. If he was lucky his heart would be one of the first to go, but most likely his liver would fail first. Or his spleen. His kidneys.

The blood circulation organs lower in his body.

It would hurt, even if at some point the delirium would claim him.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Bruce’s voice was a low grumble of comfort and family. They always fought, and Dick hadn’t seen his dad outside the Cowl for over two years now, but he didn’t want to have anybody else by his side then Bruce while he was going through this.

Maybe it was the small boy that had learned to love Bruce like a dad, that still lived inside of him, or maybe Dick just didn’t want to die alone – but he was glad that Bruce was holding his hand.

“Sorry…”

“What are you sorry for, chum?”

“For… for dying… for not noticing that I was hurt… for… for…”

“No. You have nothing to be sorry for. I know why you didn’t tell me. I am… I want to protect you, Nightwing, and I can’t do that if I don’t know all the facts… but I know why you didn’t tell me – and I did nothing to demand that kind of trust from you _. I_ am sorry.”

Silence fell over their alcove, and Dick wished Bruce would cover the wound again, even if Dick couldn’t see it. It had to look disgusting – but Dick mostly wanted to keep the smell from spreading.

Bruce had talked about many things just now – and Dick… Dick had wanted to hear a sorry from Bruce from the first moment on he had stormed out of the Manor in anger. He wasn’t sure that this was it. But… it was better than anything he had gotten before.

It let him know… that Bruce thought about him.

What a silly thought – of course, Bruce thought of him! But sometimes, in the dark nights he spent alone in Blüdhaven, Dick had begun to wonder… Had Bruce ever truly needed him? Had he just been a faulty charity project? Had they ever shared anything at all?

There was anger still seething somewhere deep inside of him, one sorry not healing all of his wounds, but as the fever painted his vision hazy, it was easier to believe that his dad loved him, than it was to continue on insisting on Bruce’s misgivings.

“What now?”

“I am going to get us out of here…”

Bruce was shifting from his spot by Dick’s side, and he was no longer strong enough to hold back the yelp of pain as Bruce accidentally brushed against his leg. Maybe he was imagining things, but the pain seemed to get worse.

“Shh… it’s alright… it’s alright, chum…”

Nothing was alright, Dick wanted to scream, but he kept his mouth closed as another moan of pain escaped him. Bruce was extremely cautious as he continued to move, and Dick was grateful, no new wave of agony crashing his body against the cliffs of what he was able to endure.

The very horrible thing about infections was just that… it could go well for a strangely long amount of time, and suddenly the tides changed, and the deterioration came fast and hard.

Dick imagined being able to feel it happening to his own body.

In his mind’s eye he could see the bacteria speed through his veins, laughing evilly as it corrupted his body. He could see it cross over into organs, and large vessels, and he even imagined himself being able to feel as different cells died, falling victim to the war waged inside his body.

Maybe it would be more bearable if he opened his eyes, the world a blurry mess surrounding him. At least he could still make out Batman, the man a giant silent shadow as he worked on what Dick could only assume was the door.

“And?” he croaked, his voice small and weak.

“It… I am not making the progress I want to make. How are you feeling?”

Maybe Dick had closed his eyes fore more than just a few seconds – he wouldn’t really be surprised if he had. It was getting harder and harder to focus on the present, the fever slowly but surely getting to him.

He felt so weak, the pain in his joints didn’t even register anymore.

“Not good…”

For a moment Batman closed his eyes, taking a deep breath… but he didn’t turn around. Bruce didn’t return to Dick’s side to hold his hand, instead he focused back on the door:

“I know, chum… and as soon as we are out of this room, I will get you help.”

“But… it hurts…”

Dick was well aware of the fact that he sounded like a whiny child, his hoarse whisper demanding Batman’s attention, when Bruce had none to give. But… but… he wanted his dad! He was scared and in pain… and it was getting harder to understand why Bruce couldn’t just save him like he always did.

“I know… I know… but I have to save us first. I am so sorry… But I have to bring us to safety before I can take care of you.”

It was unfair – the fire eating him alive so much more imminent, than whatever kept the door closed. Dick just wanted his dad… he just wanted someone to hold his hand and tell him that everything would be alright. But all he got was Bruce not looking at him, and his body slowly giving up.

He turned his head away, his eyes falling closed once more, only this time a few tears used the opportunity to escape. He was… Dick was just so tired. And it wasn’t as if Bruce cared anyway.

Time turned to molasses after that, eternities happening in the blink of an eye. Dick could feel the fever getting worse, could sense it in the pain building behind his eyes, and the parchedness of his throat. It was… It was painful and lonely and sad…

But he was too weak to do much of anything, when a soft click echoed through the enclosed space.

“Yes…”

Bruce’s voice sounded so different filtered through the horrors living in Dick’s ears, and it didn’t feel real when a hand touched him, shacked him, demanded his attention.

“I opened the door. Di- Nightwing, I opened the door. We can go now. I can… I can finally save you.”

Dick only let a sigh escape… words were kinda hard ever since his tongue had turned to lead.

“Nightwing! Please! I… I am here, chum. I am here.”

And then Dick was being hugged or, no, he was being carried, each step sending sparks of pain running through his body. It was weird how he could still feel more pain, even though his entire body was stretched to the max.

They were running, Dick thought, they were running and yet Dick was not the one moving his feet. What a weird feeling that was… what a horrible thing to experience. Dick was just so tired… maybe he should sleep for real… he was listening to Bruce when he allowed himself to drift off:

“Stay with me… I need you to stay with me, Dick… just – hah – just a little bit longer…”

And:

“Batman to Justice League. Medical Evac ASAP – Nightwing… Nightwing in critical condition.”

And:

“Stay with me… Please, my boy, stay with me. I need you… I need you more than you could ever think…”

And:

“I am sorry… I never had… the Manor is your home… it is your home… I am sorry…”

And:

“I love you, chum.”

And:

“Take him! Safe him, Goddammit!”

After that only silence followed.


End file.
